


Whisky Tales Xmas Special - Snow

by BurntWhisky1



Series: Whisky Tales [6]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: A little angst, Christmas Smut, Comfort Sex, Dean Sex, Drunk Sex, F/M, Fireside Sex, Fluff and Humor, Hot Sex, Hot whisky, Oral Sex, Snowed In
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-08 14:55:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurntWhisky1/pseuds/BurntWhisky1
Summary: It's Christmas Eve when a heavy fall of snow traps Dean at a bar in the middle of nowhere.  Fortunately he's not alone and someone gets the best Christmas present ever!A series of one shots, each featuring a Winchester.





	

Dean straightens up and slips down off the bar stool, the brilliance of his grin almost hiding the lines of weariness around his mouth.

The barmaid watches him with a soft smile, the regret in her big brown eyes matching the twist of disappointment in his gut.

It's been a tough week; the kind of week when he needs to forget everything for a few hours. Beer hasn't even started to dull the images in his head.  He's been sinking shots of whisky since he gave up on the beer and things are getting fuzzy around the edges, but he knows he still won’t be able to sleep.  What he really needs is to get laid, sink himself into the warmth of another human being and forget about the monsters for a while.

He's been flirting with the barmaid, Ella, for a while.  She‘s pretty, all curves and big eyes and long curly hair. He is seriously interested in getting to know those curves on an intimate basis but he’s promised Sam he’ll be back before… before something. And anyway, Ella is apparently not a one night stand kind of girl.

He knows she is interested, in fact he’s pretty sure she’s more than just interested, but she resists even his full watt smiles. It’s long past 'getting late' and eventually he has to swallow his disappointment. So he slides down off the barstool and pulls his gut tight against the feeling of dread at being faced with another long sleepless night. Even worse, his head is starting to feel thick and he’s sure he’s got a cold coming on.

His intention to leave is interrupted by the classic rock beat of his cell phone. He pulls it out of his pocket, his fingers clumsy with whisky.  Sam's voice is loud in his ear, concerned enough that Dean forces himself to concentrate. 

"Whassup Sammy?" Crap, more of a slur than he intends.

There is a brief silence and Dean can actually see a projection of the bitchface in front of him; he wonders if Sam has replaced his cell with some new updated model that has a hologram function or something Sci Fi like that. 

Sam's voice cuts through the fog of alcohol like a hot knife through butter.

"Are you still at the bar? Have you seen the time? Did you even _look_ outside, Dean?"

No, Dean has not looked outside. He remembers that the weather front coming in is why he’s meant to be back early. He looks now and sobers up a little.  To say it's snowed is an understatement.

“Crap,” he says.

“Wow, that’s so magical, like a Christmas card!” Ella’s enthusiastic voice is in his ear.

Dean does not think it‘s magical in any way at all. In fact he hates magical things because they inevitably curse him, blow up in his face or cause him injury.

The Impala is a white hump in a whiter expanse of swirling snowflakes. It is already far too deep to walk; driving is out of the question.  Dean suddenly realises why the bar has been so quiet and why the last patron left some time ago.

"Sonofabitch," he offers morosely.

"Really? We talked about this, remember? The weather forecast?  Snow after midnight! You said you'd be a couple of hours! That was _seven hours_ ago Dean!"

Dean swallows. He is in trouble.

"I'll walk?"

Sam swears. Dean winces, not at the words, but at the strength of the feeling behind them.

"You've got the food in the Impala, right? But hey, don't worry.  You stay put and get shitfaced and get yourself snowed in and I'll spend Christmas here, alone, with a stale packet of potato chips. Not like it's ever been any different. Happy Christmas Dean."

The call ends abruptly. Dean feels a clench of guilt. He checks the time. It’s past midnight, which means it’s now Christmas Day, has been for some time. And their food and beer and the special gift he's bought for Sam are in the Impala, in a snowdrift, in a snowstorm.

 _“Way to go Dean_ ,” he thinks sourly.

“I guess you’re stuck here?” Ella doesn’t sound too disappointed. It’s almost as though the weather has forced her down a path she’d been a little too wary to take.

“I guess?” Dean looks at her with a questioning eyebrow. “If that’s okay?”

Ella smiles. “I’m sure we’ll find some way to pass the time, y’know.” She winks at him and suddenly the night isn’t a complete loss, even if Sam is mightily pissed.

Just because he was brought up on the road it doesn’t mean Dean has no manners. Or at least he has manners when he wants to have them. So he helps Ella clean and shut up the bar. She slides the last bolt across and gestures at the door marked ‘private’.

“My room is through there.”

“You live here alone?” Dean is surprised; this is a remote spot and maybe not too safe for a lone girl.

“Nah. My cousin’ll be back later. It’s his bar, but he’s kinda busy so I help him run it.”

Dean peers out of the window at the whirling blizzard and highly doubts that Ella’s cousin will be back any time soon.

.

Ella stokes up the woodstove and lights a few lamps “…because the electric will likely go down soon, what with the weight of the snow on the cables.”

It’s cosy in the yellow light, but Dean can’t quite get rid of the chill lying along his spine. He could probably do with taking a few meds, but with the amount of alcohol he’s consumed they would probably kill him. He pushes it to the back of his mind and gives Ella the benefit of his best flirty glance, the one where he ducks his chin and looks up through his lashes. She’s clearly impressed so he lets his smile lift one side of his lips too, keeping it all cheeky and interested.

Ella moves closer to him on the couch. “So,” she says. “Apparently there is one good way to keep warm.”

Dean chuckles; he likes this girl. She isn’t complicated. He hasn’t got time for complicated.

He’s leaning forwards to catch her lips with his own when he realises he’s not being entirely fair, especially with Christmas right around the corner. He pauses and squints at her, a little cross-eyed because she is right in front of his nose.

“I, er, I gotta warn you, I’ve mebbe got a cold or somethin’ comin’ on.” He waits, tense, for the reply.

Ella smirks. “Really, I’d never have guessed.” It seems she’s noticed his sighs and sniffles during the evening after all. Dean is slightly surprised because he thought he’d kept it under wraps better than that.

Ella pulls back and looks into his eyes. Her gaze runs down across his cheeks to his mouth and lingers there. She sighs. “It’s a price I’m willing to pay.”

He doesn’t have time to analyse this because she’s already brushing her lips across his and the warmth sends a jolt straight to his groin.

Once started, Ella is not one to hang about. She pushes him back into the couch and straddles his lap. Her hands run up his jaw; he can hear the little rasp his stubble makes under her nails.

Her lips are soft against his and he moves his mouth against her, slipping his tongue inside to tangle with hers. She tastes good, all strawberry lip gloss and whisky and he cups the back of her head and pulls her in closer, tighter.

The kiss becomes more intense; Dean feels a surge of excitement building in his stomach, at the base of his spine. She moves against him, rubbing up and down on his lap and his balls tighten as his pants get tighter and tighter against the heat of his erection.

It’s right then that his body decides to betray him. A cold chill ripples up his back, brings goosebumps to his arms and chest and he shudders. Not a hot, sexy kind of shudder; it’s the sort of shudder that usually precedes a sneeze… and does.

Dean pulls his mouth free and catches the sneeze in the crook of his elbow, somehow managing to look both horrified and surprised at the same time.

Ella laughs. “Oh hell,” she says. “Mebbe you’d better have a hot toddy first!” She wriggles off his lap, making sure she grinds against him on the way off.

“Tell you what, you stay there and I’ll go get it.” Her fingers trail up his inner thigh, briefly massage the hot swollen lump between his legs and she’s gone.

Dean sits, a little breathless. His head is definitely fuzzy and he’s finding it difficult to focus on anything but wanting to pound Ella into the thick fur in front of the woodstove.

He’s feeling a little drowsy, may even have dropped off if his dick hadn’t been begging for attention, but he’s saved from possible embarrassment when she swings back into the room. A steaming glass mug is pressed into his hand.

“This… and sex… best things for it.” Ella winks and drinks from her own mug.

Dean sips; hot lemon and whisky and honey flood over his tongue. It goes straight to his stomach to gather in a hot pool. Then it goes straight to his head, smacking into his brain with the speed of a runaway freight train.

“Ohmygod!”

“Good, huh?” She smirks and leans in to lick his lips with a tongue tasting of honey. “Finish it while it’s hot, you’ll feel better.”

His nose seems to have cleared already; he’s not sure if he feels better or if he’s just too drunk to care anymore. He empties the mug down his throat and rides the slam of alcohol into his head.

“C’mere!” His voice is gravel and lust and Ella responds eagerly. They kiss again, taking up where they left off, only now it’s much more intense.

Dean feels her fingers snap open the button on his jeans and the zipper is dragged down. Her slender fingers push aside the flaps and caress his balls through the soft fabric of his boxers. She hums into his mouth with approval as he opens her shirt, popping one button at a time until her cleavage is in his face. He learnt how to snap a bra open with one hand when he was fourteen, so it’s no bother to get that shirt and bra right off and drop them on the floor.

She is magnificent. Those breasts are so full and firm and he takes a large nipple in his mouth and twirls his tongue around the nub as he rubs the other nipple with his thumb. It makes her whimper against his mouth and he abandons the nipple and massages the breast, relishing the firm softness under his rough fingertips.

She’s already undone her jeans and rises up to slip them off. A tiny pair of silky panties is all that remains, lace over soft skin. Teasing, she dips a long finger inside and rubs herself, then pulls it out and goes to lick it. He’s too fast for her, capturing her hand and slipping the finger in between his lips, sucking and nibbling.

She rides his thigh for a moment, then stands up and leans down to pull his jeans off his hips. His boxers follow and there’s a brief struggle with boots and shirts and then he’s naked and she’s kneeling between his knees, smiling up at him as her hair cascades on either side of his thighs. Her pink tongue slips out and swipes playfully at the tip of his cock.

Dean whines, his balls clench and he can already see the shine of pre-come beading at the tip. She sweeps it away with her tongue and slips kiss-plumped lips over the head, slowly, licking and sliding down. By the time she’s halfway down his length Dean is panting; when her head begins to bob up and down he can’t help but hold onto her hair, rocking up into her mouth and he’s sure his eyes have lost focus altogether.

The pressure at the base of his spine builds and suddenly he pulls her off, probably a little too rough because he’s almost lost it. She doesn’t seem to mind and slides up his body and reclaims his mouth as her fingers slip underneath his ass, pulling him closer. He takes hold of her tiny waist and tugs her down, rubbing the silk of her panties up and down his cock.

“Please…” she whispers and he lets her stand up, yanking down those little panties with his big hands as she does. He leans forwards and kisses the soft skin, grabs her firm ass and tugs her towards him, slipping his tongue forwards and sweeping across the furled flesh and sensitive nub. Sweet juices flood his mouth and he can’t wait much longer.

He stands and picks her up. She wraps her legs around his waist and slips up and down, hot and wet against the taut skin between his hip bones. Seconds later he has her on her back on that soft fur in front of the woodstove and his face is between her thighs.

He spreads her wide and licks, swirling his tongue between the folds of skin, slipping it inside and feeling the pulse of muscle clench around it. She will be tight and his cock leaks in excitement. He bites gently at the inside of her thigh and slides a long finger inside her. She cries out and pushes up against him as he adds a second finger, crooking them just so, to brush at that place inside that makes women wild. Her hips start to gyrate and she grinds eagerly up onto his fingers. She’s ready, so ready, and seconds later she lets out a wanton little gasp and comes; the muscles clench and flutter around his fingers and he rubs at the little nub with his thumb. She makes a sound that is almost a sob and comes again, jerking against his chin as he massages her to stillness and laps up the juices with his tongue.

“Oh, oh, oh...” She is flushed, her eyes bright, hair mussed and a sheen of sweat on her breasts and flat stomach in the glow of the woodstove. He loves to see a woman like this, to know he’s done this, made them happy, even if just for a moment.

He slides up her body, pressing his muscles and bone against her soft warmth. His cock is throbbing and he can hear himself growling a little as he fastens over her mouth and kisses hard. She opens up immediately, bucking her hips up to meet him and he lines himself up, pushing at her entrance, slow, sure, trying to hold himself back when all he wants to do is sink right inside.

She reaches up and grabs his ass cheeks, pulls him down into her and he moans, sliding in deep, right to the hilt in the heat and wet. He grabs at a breast, massaging, begins to roll his hips. He knows his mouth is open a little and his eyes close at the intense feeling of her around him. She reaches up and bites him under the jaw and his rhythm stutters as he nearly comes. He grits his teeth and begins to fuck in earnest, one hand under her ass, the other holding his weight. He can feel the muscles of his ass tightening, his spine is on fire and he pounds, faster and faster, twisting a little as he plunges. His balls are nearly exploding when she screams out and comes again, shuddering and twisting under him. There’s no stopping it now and he ruts, fast, hard and then it’s there, a white hot pulse that starts somewhere in his spine and wrings the inside out of his balls, shooting out of his cock into the warm pulsing muscle around him. He thrusts, shuddering, emptying himself into her and then collapses, remembering to roll sideways and pull her with him before he crushes her.

They lie there panting, the sweat cooling on their skin. After a while she begins to kiss him again and he hardens while he’s still inside. She rolls him onto his back, her fingernails scratching gently across his ribs and she kisses his nipples, bites his neck, slips a tongue into his ear. He’s gasping and rocking up into her as she begins to move, one knee each side of him as she rides him. She lets go of his mouth, sits up on his thighs and begins to grind down on him.

Dean is seeing stars; he’s so hard again he knows it won’t be long and he grasps her waist and pulls her up and down, hard, fast, almost vicious. He moves one thumb to run against the sensitive node between her legs and she cries out again, riding harder and faster as he fucks up into her. She comes again in a great shudder and he grinds up, crying out as his hips snap upwards. The spasm hits almost painfully and his back and hips arch right up off the floor. He can hear himself groan and groan and can’t stop it as he rides pulse after pulse. He actually feels the final drop wring out of him and falls back, vision momentarily gone as his heart hammers like it wants to jump out of his chest.

She falls across him, breath hot on his neck and they lie there, gasping.

He thinks he may have dozed off for a while when he becomes aware of a weird red light coming in through the window.

He’s high from sex and still fairly drunk and for a crazy second he thinks it might be something to do with a sleigh and reindeer. He shuts that thought down quickly. It’s not as though he’s believed in that since he was four!

Ella springs up with surprising speed and throws his jeans at him.

“My cousin,” she explains as she drags her clothes on with rapid and slightly panicky movements.

Dean isn’t exactly panicky; he can look after himself, but he doesn’t fancy facing down some large irate guy who has a hang up over his cousin’s sexual encounters either. He dresses quickly and follows Ella into the bar.

The strange light is pulsing outside and Dean peers out of the window, trying to focus through the encrusted snow. That’s when he realises there’s a large shape next to Baby. He does panic a bit then and has his jacket on and done up in no time at all.

Ella chooses that moment to open the door to a skinny guy bundled up in about fifty coats and at least three scarves.

“Jed,” she cries, delighted. “You got home in time for Christmas!”

“Yup,” says Jed, all laid back and smiling. He includes Dean in his happy beam.

“Who’s this fella then?”

“Oh.” Ella blushes a bit and Jed gives her a knowing look. “This is Dean, he got himself stranded.”

“That your car out there, ’67 Impala?”

“Er yeah.” Dean is seriously impressed. The Impala is a mound of snow and if he hadn’t parked her there himself he would’ve had difficulty in identifying said mound as a vehicle, never mind giving the year and model.

Ella sighs. “Dean can’t get back to his motel. His baby brother is gonna be all alone on Christmas Day.” She pulls a puppy dog eye look that would make Sam envious.

Jed grins. “You down at the Old Bell and Pail Motel?”

Dean nods. He still can’t work out why anyone would call their motel after a bell and a tin pail, but hey, who’s he to talk, he calls his car his baby after all. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course.

“Well follow me; I’ll get you home in no time at all.” Jed bestows a kiss on his cousin’s forehead and heads out.

Ella throws her arms around Dean and gives him a huge hug, presses a kiss on his lips.

“Thanks,” she whispers. “Best Christmas present ever!”

Dean grins and kisses her back. “Yeah,” he says, breathing in the sweet smell of her hair. “Me too.”

He pulls away, sends her a wink and heads outside.

Jed is pushing the last of the snow away from the Impala with a large shovel. “You clear her windows off and we’ll be outta here.”

The pulsing red light is coming from a beasty looking snow plow. Dean grins. It’s the next best present he’s had, getting home to Sammy for Christmas morning. It’s a close call, but it may even be the best one.

.

It’s just getting light when Dean throws open the door to their motel room and bellows “Merry Christmas, Sammy!”

Sam shoots upright, his hair sticking up every which way. How he missed the arrival of the snow plow is beyond Dean. Maybe his little brother has been drinking too much whisky or has a cold coming on or something.

“Dean?” Sam is all surprised and sleepy and is staring at the bags of food and the brightly wrapped parcel tucked under Dean’s arm.

“Ho ho ho!” Dean growls, dumping the bags and slamming the door behind him.

He drops the present onto Sam’s bed and ruffles his brother’s hair affectionately. “Happy Christmas, Sam.”

Sam grins and it’s clear from his expression that Dean being home for Christmas is Sam’s best present ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Here's hoping Santa brings you a Dean! ;-)
> 
> Kudos are always appreciated. :-)
> 
> They are not mine. They never will be, only in my daydreams. I won't be making any cash or gaining any fame. I'm borrowing them for your entertainment, and mine!  
> All rights belong to Kripke, CW and anyone else who has official ownership.


End file.
